|Fic: I'll Show You Mine... (1/2?)
||[Mar. 26th, 2008|08:37 pm]
Cable x Deadpool
|||||Valerie - the Zutons||]|
Not written anything like as quickly as the last one. :( Plus; nothng can ever be short.
Title: I’ll Show You Mine... (1/2?)
Rating: R or NC-17, not sure...
Word Count: 2350 so far
Warnings: Contains sexxors, but not continuity. Continuity gives me a headache, so pretend this exists in some world where Nate and Wade are not, and/or never have been trying to kill each other, and Cable got his TK and telepathy back naturally rather than via the Cone of Silence/Dominus Objective. Actually for all I know, his might have happened sometime before the end, but if so, Wikipedia doesn’t know about it... Oh, and there’s plot too, not just porn. Because I’m just a sucker for plot.
Adopted and cross bred plot bunnie(s) from navisx, since I owe him a fic for sending me all that lovely Cable/Deadpool stuff.
“There's the Wade and Nate swap powers, during sex, and then have to have more sex to swap them back (justification for a pwp)
Or spin on the previous they don’t swap powers Wade just started showing some Telekinesis he picked up from when he was a liquid mixed with Cable. With TK training montages (and subconscious TK Fondling!), everybody wins.”
It isn’t exactly something either of them had planned. Not that Wade ever planned anything much, acting more on instinct and the promptings of his twisty-turny mind, but Nate is all about plans, and control, and being one step ahead of everyone else, which is why it’s such a surprise to find himself backed up against a brick wall in an alley in Cairo (And why are they in Cairo? Don’t ask) by a very horny merc, mask pushed half way up, warm lips on his, tongue forcing into his mouth with ruthless intensity. But this is Wade; so really, nothing should have been a surprise. After a few seconds Wade pulls back, obviously frowning under his mask.
“You know,” he says, poking Nate in the chest, “usually when someone kisses you you’re meant to actually do something.”
Well it was a bit unexpected, Nate wants to say, but that would mean admitting he hadn’t anticipated it, and that would just lead to Wade pausing in the whole kissing business to go on about it. Why give him an excuse to do that when his friend had just shown the sort of interest he had been wishing existed, but never really believed did...? But obviously he’s been silent a bit too long, because Wade lets go of him and turns away, almost but not quite hiding a hurt expression beneath his pushed up mask and lips that quirk up into a slightly rueful smile.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time, but I guess not... Just blame it on a loose connection huh?”
“That’s not...” Nate reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it off angrily.
“Let’s just go alright. No Brokeback Mountain here.”
“Wade!” Nate grabs him again, holding on tighter this time, pulling him around and kissing him back. It’s forceful, and this time there’s the proper back and forth play of tongues and passion and testosterone and... mmm. Wade tastes good, a little like the after-taste of alcohol, but mostly just like Wade. He is close enough to feel his solid, muscular form pressing up against his own, lithe and very, very flexible, as he knew from sparring. Yeah, that gives him some very nice mental images.
“Would it ... have ... killed ya,” Wade says between kisses, forcing him back against the warm, sun-baked brick wall, “to ... do this... before?”
Nate grins against the merc’s mouth, pulling him in even closer with his right hand, reaching down with his left to stroke Wade’s obviously hard cock through the tented spandex. He doesn’t need to read his strange, slippery mind to guess he has a thing for his techno-organics. Wade groans, and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Smug bastard.”
“Well isn’t that one of the things you love about me?” he whispers into Wade’ ear, licking along his jawline and smiling – yes, alright, smugly. Wade’s skin tastes... interesting; salty sweat, a slight dirty tang, and something else indefinable underneath it all. The texture is odd too, ridged with scar tissue, but appealing for all that.
“Are you just gonna keep licking me all afternoon or are we actually going somewhere with this?” Wade’s amused voice breaks his reverie. Nate chuckles, moving down to bite lightly on his neck, letting his low, rough laughter transmit itself through his teeth. Wade shivers in pleasure. “Oh that’s nice...yeah...”
“We could always bodyslide back to Providence...” Nate suggests, working his metal hand under Wade’s spandex pants and inside his boxers. Apparently by the hitch in his breath Wade really likes the ridged texture of his techno-organic fingers.
“Alley is... fine by me.” Wade bucks his hips into Nate’s touch, swearing under his breath. “Unnh... want you to... fuck me. Here. Now.”
“We don’t have any lube,” Nate replies regretfully, still stroking his fingers teasingly slowly along Wade’s length.
“I don’t care,” Wade growls, “and I don’t need it. Healing factor remember.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not going to fucking hurt me! Don’t be a wuss.” Wade has already pushed his hand away long enough to undo his belt and toss it aside, pulling his pants and boxers down enough to bare that tight muscular ass that Nate has spent so much time admiring. Kissing Nate again, Wade spins them both round so his back is pressing against the wall, fumbling with the belt and pants of Nate’s costume, freeing his own achingly hard cock. Then, supporting himself with his hands on Nate’s shoulders he raises himself up in one smooth move, wrapping his legs around Nate’s waist, and thrusting himself down onto Nate’s solid length. Nate gasps, feeling tight heat around him, dropping his hands to Wade’s ass to help keep him up.
“Ah, shit that’s good,” Wade sighs, pulling himself up and starting to slowly fuck himself on Nate’s cock. He can feel Wade’s muscles tense and shifting either side of him, reminding him just how strong Wade is, and blood is starting to slick Wade’s ass up. It might be disturbing if he was really thinking about it, but his mind is far more taken up with how damn good Wade feels. He thrusts up, grinding the mercenary back against the rough brick of the wall, sinking balls deep, and he must have hit that spot inside Wade because he arches his back in pleasure and moans, deep, throaty and very sexy. Wade lifts up again, and they quickly get into rhythm. Nate leans into the movement, feeling the merc’s taut chest muscles under his own, shifting as Wade rolls his hips, forcing himself down even further onto Nate’s cock. Wade’s breath is coming in short, broken gasps, hot against Nate’s cheek, his head thrown back against the wall. Nate’s loosing what little control he still has, fucking Wade harder and faster, pounding him into the brick, mouthing endearments into his ear, his hands spreading Wade’s ass wider, gripping warm solid muscle made slippery by slick blood. Wade’s whimpering and his fingers tighten on Nate’s shoulders, and the sound goes straight to his cock. Fuck. Nate closes his eyes as he buries himself inside Wade, coming hard enough to make him see stars. Wade comes seconds after, his hard dick spurting onto Nate’s stomach. He comes down off the high with his muscles shuddering with the effort of holding the other man up, his breath ragged.
“We really should have done this a long time ago,” Wade pants, the ghost of a chuckle in his voice.
“Yeah,” Nate agrees, not able to say much else. The air around them is shimmering; the heat and the after-effects of pleasure he thinks. He could stay here all day if it wasn’t for the fact that this is an alleyway in Cairo, and anyway Wade is heavy. He eases out and lets Wade unwrap his legs from around his waist. The mercenary lowers himself to the ground with the agility of a gymnast, apparently unaffected by all the work his muscles have been doing.
“Now we bodyslide back to Providence,” Wade says with a happy grin, pulling his pants up. “I’m thinking shower sex?”
Nate thinks this is going to be a very long and very enjoyable evening.
Wade wakes up with the mother of all headaches. Possibly his worst headache ever, and he should know, ‘cos he’s had a few.
“Owwie.” He sits up, which doesn’t make the headache any worse, but does reveal the fact that apparently he’s decided to stay the night at Providence, as opposed to going back to his apartment and staying up ‘til one in the morning watching crap TV. Although he did stay up until one here as well. Just without the TV. And with more sex. Lots more sex. Alcohol had also been involved somewhere, so maybe that explained the headache. It doesn’t feel like a hangover though, and anyway, he doesn’t really get hangovers. Well, unless he drinks, like, a shitload, and it hadn’t been that much.
Nate is asleep on the couch. That’s kind of a pity, since he had sort of been hoping to find him curled up with him, not that he’ll admit wanting to do something as girly as snuggle. He guesses maybe he’d been a bit drunk after all, which might explain it. Aww, he’d given up his bed for him. Not like there aren’t a hundred other beds Nate can choose from in this place, though most of them have refugees/immigrants/whatever the hell they were calling them these days in them. He’s snoring, so Wade throws a pillow at him.
“Wakey wakey Priscilla. If the readers wanted to see you sleeping they’d just go look at picture of you with your eyes closed for half an hour. At least it’d be quieter.”
Nate opens one eye to glare at him. Unfortunately it‘s his T.O. eye, so the glare thing doesn’t quite work.
“Go make me coffee!” Wade throws the other pillow at him. It bounces off his head, further messing up his already ruffled hair.
“Shut up Wade.”
“I thought you like my Demee Moore-like voice?” He thinks about throwing something else, but there isn’t much else to throw in the bed.
“Normally, yes, but not when I’ve got a headache.”
“You too huh?” Wade gets up, determined that if he isn’t about to get prissy Priscilla Summers to make some coffee for him, he’ll just have to get it himself. Nate puts his arm over his face, clearly not listening. Is there something else around here to throw at Super-Jesus? Well, obviously not so super this morning, what with the headache and all. Was it the sex? Does really good sex give you a headache? Surely only if you accidentally bang your head against something hard while doing it, and he doesn’t remember that happening. Perhaps he has concussion. How did you check for that again? But didn’t you die if you went to sleep with concussion? Cos he’d been asleep, and he doesn’t feel dead. Healing factor perhaps? Ooh, one of his boots. He throws it at Nate. Nate makes a protesting noise.
“Stop it.” He makes a sort of fending-off motion at the air.
“Why don’t you just TK ‘em away?” Wade asks, looking for his other boot. Or possibly one of Nate’s boots. Or something else hard.
“The next time I will.”
“Suuuuure.” Wade finds the second boot, along with the rest of his Deadpool costume, and his narcissistic Deadpool boxers. He puts those on, and retrieves the weapons harness rig out from under a pile of spandex. Heavy, hard things, oh yes indeed. He pulls out a small pistol. “Hey Nate!”
“Think fast!” He chucks the gun hard, watching it fly end over end to hit Nate squarely between the eyes.
“Ow!” Nate glares at him some more, sitting up properly. “A gun? And you call me immature.”
“It’s not my fault if your reflexes aren’t up to much,” Wade smirks.
Nate frowns. “I should have caught it. It was as if I reached out for my telekinesis and it wasn’t there...”
“Want to try again?” Wade asks, grabbing the boot and aiming it.
“You just want an excuse to throw things at me.”
“Well duh. Come on, I’ll even toss it slowly. Even you can’t be that hopeless.”
“Alright.” Nate is still frowning. Super Jesus, worried? Nah.
Wade hefts the boot for a second then throws it. Okay, not terribly softly or slowly, but slower, and that counted right? It bounces of Nate’s chest. “Okay, it’s official,” Wade says, “you really are that hopeless.”
“There’s nothing there!” Nate tells him, sounding almost... panicky. Which was almost enough to get Wade anxious too, because Nate just didn’t do that.
“So... what, you just wake up and suddenly you’re lobotomised again?”
“I... really don’t know.”
Wade thinks about it for a moment. “Well maybe you just need to be a bit more motivated,” he says, slipping another weapon out of its sheath on his costume.
“In what way... oh.” His eyes widen, but it’s far too late to move out of the way. The thin knife catches him in the chest, sinking in up to the hilt. “Again, ow.”
Wade cocks his head to one side. “There’s a surprising amount of not falling over dead going on here.”
“Yeah.” Nate wraps his fingers around the weapon and pulls it out with a nasty ‘schlurp’ sound. The oozing puncture wound begins to close up behind it. “That’s not... normal.”
Wade stares at him for a second, then waves his finger at him. “He-ey! You’ve stolen my healing factor haven’t you! Is this another one of your ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’ plans? ‘Cos if so, then you have some fixin’ to do.”
“This is nothing to do with me,” Nate replies, looking even less happy than before, if that’s possible. “But... I think you might have something there. If I’ve got your healing factor, then maybe you’ve got my powers.”
“Yeah, well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not hearing anything. No voices, nada. No neato moving things around with my mind either.”
“Well your shifting cellular structure always did make your mind difficult to get a hold on,” Nate tells him, rubbing his forehead. “The same might be true of me now. And have you even tried using telekinesis?”
“Nope.” But Wade is still pretty sceptical about it. He doesn’t feel any different, apart from the headache. Still the same screwy sense of humour, rambling internal monologue... “Anyway, what about all the other people on your little island? You’re always going on about how you’re such a powerful telepath, so how come I’m not hearing them?”
“My rooms are shielded.” He drops his arm again, though unable to stop his hand lingering on the spot where the knife had hit him. It is unmarked. “But if you step outside...”
“That’s easy enough to test,” Wade replies, stepping over his abandoned costume towards the door. He is unconscious the moment he turns the handle.